


Mutual Comfort

by marmolady



Series: Beyond Vaanu: Endless Ending [18]
Category: Endless Summer (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 04:29:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21332296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolady/pseuds/marmolady
Summary: Estela’s been back home to San Trobida many times before, but with daughter Liv growing up before her eyes, her own childhood won’t leave her be.Kiddie-Estela flashbacks ahead!
Relationships: Estela Montoya/Main Character (Endless Summer)
Series: Beyond Vaanu: Endless Ending [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906357
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	Mutual Comfort

_Thud-thud-thud._

The impact of the footsteps seemed excessive for the size of the feet that made them. A fond smile played upon Nicolas Montoya’s face. For a four-year-old child, their little Livita had a way of sounding remarkably like a herd of elephants. With such a human hurricane as a house guest, Nicolas wasn’t entirely sure what had hit him– it had been some twenty years since he’d been tasked with entertaining a pre-school age child.

“Livita! Come here to the kitchen. Show me a word!”

_Thud-thud-thud._

The small girl barrelled her way into the kitchen, joining her _tio abuelo _as he carried on putting together a family-sized lunch spread.

“A word? What word?”

“How am I to know? You’re the great mind. Show me what word you know.”

Her face lit up, Liv stomped to the refrigerator and studied the alphabet magnets strewn across its surface. She was getting good at letters, and delighted in exhibiting her newfound prowess with the written word.

“Okay. How about…” She bit her tongue in concentration, then reached for the letter ‘c’. “Cat. Ck-aah-tuh.”

“Very good. See, we almost won’t need to send you to school. I’ve seen world leaders with less between their ears than what you’ve got.”

Liv beamed with pride. “I can do your name! Look!” This one, her Mama Estela had taught her. “Tuh-i-oh. Tio.”

“That’s Tio Abuelo to you, _bribona!”_

“Uh, I can’t do words that big. Just ‘Tio’.”

Just then, the front door swung open with a creak. “_Livi!_ My sunshine, we’re _home!_”

“_Mommy!_” Liv hurtled through the front room into Taylor’s middle. “Mom, you got the paint?”

“Yup! All the colours you picked out. Are you ready to get started?”

“Uh huh. I got a brush!” With one arm still around Taylor, Liv reached behind for Estela, who was coming up behind with another armful of supplies. “Mama ‘Stel! Tio says if we do it good, we can paint the whole house.”

Estela chuckled, and gently mussed her child’s hair. “One thing at a time, _mija. _We don’t want the house to look like an art-supply shop exploded in here.”

“Why not? That sounds _cool_.”

Taking both her mothers by their free hands, Liv excitedly led the way to her new bedroom, now emptied save for old sheets placed down to protect the floor. Her possessions; bed, wardrobe and a modest pile of toys, had been gathered in the front room, ready to be assembled when the mission was complete. Until a week or so prior, the room had been a spare, and many years before that, it had belonged to Estela’s mother, for whom Liv was named. With the small family having moved in with Nicolas for a few months, prior to making a momentous move to the States in time for Liv to start school, making the old house child-friendly again had become suddenly necessary. With several swords, knives, and other most pointedly _not _child-friendly objects now stored out of the reach of young Liv, giving her a dedicated room where she could freely play was the next job on the list.

Liv, of course, was oblivious to the reason she had the big bedroom all her own, while her mothers– two whole grown-ups– were holed up in a room like a tiny shoebox by their own choice. Or at least, she was oblivious to _most _of the reason. She’d been told that Shoebox Room had been her Mama Estela’s since she was a little girl. There had been discussions, once Liv had outgrown the temporary cot that filled the entire floor in her mothers’ room, about changing things around. But Estela couldn’t sleep in her mom’s old room. She simply _couldn’t._ Spending any time in there at all was challenging; as if the air in that place was thick with the emotion that smothered her. To Liv, though, it was a space that offered her room to play, to run, to make a mess. In the end, it was a no-brainer. The spare room, Estela’s mother’s room, would be Liv’s. And Estela… could only hope that the paint job would do something to lessen the weight that settled upon her chest every time she stepped through that damned doorway.

Re-decorating the room was a team effort, with the whole family lending a hand. Liv, easily distracted, took to adding colourful hand and foot prints to the drip sheet, and surrounding them with painted doodles. Just painting solid colours on the walls was rather less fun, but she _did_ take an opportunity to sit on Estela’s shoulders to paint up high. From there, she was at a good height to daub Taylor’s face with a flailing brush.

“Ugh, Livi, my nose! You little terror!” Taylor squirmed, her face screwed up in protest, then she took her revenge. With a cry of “Hy-aaah!” she swiped Liv’s nose with a non-so-skilfully wielded roller, getting a large glob in Estela’s hair in the process.

Estela gave her wife a look. “Thanks, Taylor. Thanks a lot.” She reached up with her free hand and tickled her giggling daughter’s side. “As if _you _need to be egged on!”

It wasn’t an efficient job, even with Nicolas’ attempts to run the show. Liv cared not for practicality; she was there for a good time, and if the time taken meant that she’d have a late bedtime, all the better. Her attention span couldn’t hold up, but she kept the team of painters entertained as she merrily danced and played around them.

Taylor reached for her daughter’s hand. “Time for the finishing touches, Liv! C’mere, I’ll give you a boost.”

With Liv having endowed her ceiling, now adorned by a large yellow-orange sun, with one last brush of paint, Estela felt her senses become muffled. She had to busy herself, keep her mind occupied, or she’d fall to pieces staying in that room. A heavy sigh pushed its way out, even against her conscious protest. They could re-decorate all they wanted, but this was still her mother’s room, and it still stirred up old grief. Seeing her own daughter there… it made bittersweet reminiscing an inevitability, and it was a haze all too easy to become ensnared in.

“Tired, Mama ‘Stel?” Liv asked, wrapping her small arms around her mom’s legs.

Her eyes glazed over, Estela struggled to focus, but managed to give her daughter a one-armed hug, as she felt Taylor embrace her from behind. The physical contact was grounding. “Aren’t _you_ tired,_ mija? _It’s your bedtime and we still have to put your bed in here! Are you feeling strong to give me a hand?”

“Nooooo! I’m not tired, and I’m _always _feeling strong!” Liv grabbed hold of Estela’s hand with one of her own, Taylor’s with the other, and enthusiastically dragged them away with her. “I’ll show you– I can help you carry the whole bed!”

* * *

_2001_

Estela tugged at her mother’s hand as she ran through the door– home at last. Only five, the harsh reality of the tumultuous world in which she lived was vague, and of little interest. For the first time, the instability of her home had impacted her; the past few weeks she’d spent in hiding with her mother out in the wilderness. Estela’s _tio _had stayed behind, doing some important grown-up work that she understood to be about stopping the bad people. It had been frightening. Camping with her mom was usually a lot of fun, but Estela could feel the fear, like a sickness that had taken root in her mother’s heart. There had been no shouting or running, nor any other noisy play. There had been no leaving the hiding place. If they talked, they were to whisper. For one so small, it was a great challenge, even though little Estela was scared enough that her usual exuberance was stoppered. But they were home now. Thoughts of a scary world that had to be hidden from evaporated; for all the young child knew, it was just a fly in the ointment of her life; they’d dealt with it, and now it was business as usual.

She hurled herself at her bed, and started jumping up and down, the mattress springs squeaking loudly with every pound of her small feet. “Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce—_Tio Nicolas!– _bounce, bounce, bounce…”

Nicolas had been talking to her mother, his face crinkled as if he was worried. Strange, as far as Estela was concerned, for the danger had passed. They were all home.

“Tio! Bounce… b-bounce…” She stumbled, falling onto her backside with a chortle. “_Tio!”_

“Tio this, Tio that…. Estelita, we should have left you in the forest; maybe I’d have some peace and quiet, then!”

She fell about laughing, her legs kicking in the air. “No, _you _should live in the forest! I’m gonna stay here and play on the beach.” Her eyes suddenly widened. “_Tiiiiooooo_… can we go swimming? Please!”

Nicolas looked back to Olivia, questioning. After all the unrest, he wasn’t going to get on the wrong side of a protective mother.

For a few moments, Olivia considered, then reached a hand out to her daughter. There was no way she was letting that precious child out of her sight, even if the threat_ had_ passed. She couldn’t just turn off the vigilance that had been a matter of life or death, as if it were a light switch. “All right, _mija. _We’ll _all _go. But first, why don’t you give me a hand making up a lunch? You don’t want your rumbling belly to scare away all the poor fishes, do you?”

Estela snorted with laughter. “Mom! My belly is _not _that loud!”

“If it’s anything like the snoring…” Nicolas mumbled under his breath, a sly grin across his face.

Screwing up her face, indignant, Estela poked her tongue out at her uncle, but obediently followed her mother into the kitchen. She was perhaps a _little _hungry. The ration bars they’d been living off for the past weeks had not exactly been terribly exciting… nor tasty. After several weeks in hiding, the thought of eating something that didn’t taste of cardboard was almost as inviting as a swim in the sea.

“What do you think, Estelita? _Arepas_, and maybe some _aborrajados_ for afterwards?”

Estela gave a delighted squeal. That _definitely _sounded a step up from what she’d gotten used to.

“That’s a ‘yes’?” Olivia laughed. It was an immense relief to see the sparkle return to her little girl after having needed to force that joy down for their very survival. There was no escaping the impact of those fearful weeks, but she simply refused to let her daughter’s spirit be crushed… if it took everything in her, she’d protect her Estela’s happiness. “You can be in charge of getting me the ingredients, _mi preciosa ni__ñ__a. _Find out from Tio Nicolas what fillings he wants, and I’ll get started.”

As her mother busily moved around the kitchen, Estela stayed close, offering ingredients one after the other. She bounced on the balls of her feet as the scent of the frying maize dough wafted over her, making her salivate hungrily. More of a hindrance than a help in the small space, nonetheless, it was clear that Olivia welcomed the well-meaning presence of her small daughter. Where she could be of no assistance, Estela simply offered her company, feeling that it was wanted– and guzzled up any scraps that came her way.

“Okay, _mija_, I think we’re just about done…”

Excitedly, Estela rushed to retrieve a big wicker picnic basket, almost too cumbersome for her to carry. Together, she and her mother filled the basket with the steaming lunch, and then, with Estela having announced their readiness to her uncle by leaping into his lap as he was scribbling out a letter, it was time to hit the beach beyond their home.

The broad strip of beach was eerily quiet. Usually, the place was bustling with people; vendors selling their wares, children splashing in the shallows, adults reclining upon the sand. There were perhaps three or four other people visible as Estela gazed up the beach, but no more.

“Mom, did everyone else run away and hide too?” Even as Estela posed the question, she felt her mother’s grasp on her hand tighten.

“Maybe. People will still be getting back to normal after the bad people came. It’s okay, though, it’s safe here now. You can play.”

No further reassurance was needed. Estela extricated her hand from her mom’s, and buried it in the picnic basket, pulling out an _arepa_, which she stuffed in her face.

“Small bites, Estelita! You’re not a shark; you’ll choke.”

As if on cue, Estela coughed and spluttered, taking a mouthful down the wrong way, and Nicolas chuckled, ruffling her hair.

“We haven’t been keeping you safe all this time for you to die by inhaling an _arepa_, you little _tonta!”_

The food was comforting. There was something in the atmosphere that unsettled Estela; something hanging in the air. But the food was wonderfully familiar, tasting of home, and reassuring her that her world hadn’t, as it appeared, turned on its head. She sat down upon the sand, almost sitting on her mother’s lap in her need to have her near. Tucking in, she glanced up every now and then when she took too big a bite, checking to see whether her excessive gusto had gone unnoticed. Her mother’s raised eyebrow made her giggle, spluttering out another mouthful.

Olivia shook her head affectionately. “What am I going to do with you?”

It was a torturous and fidgety wait as Estela looked longingly out to the sea while her food went down. A couple of stray dogs circled her, obviously seeing her as a likely leaver of scraps. It didn’t take them long to give up, and trot away to chase one another through the shallows. _They _didn’t have protective caregivers enforcing a proper rest period for digestion.

“Look at your face!” Olivia laughed. “Come on, then, you’ve waited long enough. Go play!”

Estela was on her feet in an instant. “_Yes!_”

Then she was running, all thoughts of the strange quiet of the beach forgotten. She had sand beneath her feet, wind tossing her loose hair, and the knowledge that she was safe as long as her mother watched over her. There was a heavy pounding behind her, and she squealed in anticipation, moments before Nicolas scooped her into up his lean, muscular arms, clean off her little feet.

“_Aaaaaghh! _Tio!

“I’ve got you now, little _tonta!” _

Estela threw her head back and shrieked with laughter. Thank goodness she was now safe to do so, for she couldn’t have held it back if she tried. She writhed, trying in vain to tickle her uncle– who was, as always, frustratingly immune to tickling, as he carried her out into the choppy sea. He swung her around him in a wild arc; once, twice, and then letting her fly freely, high up into the air….

_Splash!_

* * *

  
  


_S_ _plash!_

For a few seconds, Liv disappeared beneath the waves, and then…

“Again, _again!_”

Liv reached out as she came up, taking Estela by her middle. She was right at home in the water, having been taken swimming before she could so much as walk.

“Again?” Estela cocked an eyebrow, meeting her daughter’s spirited and challenging gaze. “How many times can I throw you in the sea and you _still _come back?”

“_Mommy! _You can’t throw me away!”

Estela giggled, and tickled Liv under her arms, dislodging her. “No, I could never. Come here, _pez pequeño_.”

She picked her up by her armpits and swung her so that her legs flailed out uncontrollably. Two swings… three… and then Liv was sent sailing through the air, landing with another splash.

Liv, of course, came up all but laughing her head off. “Again!”

“That’s enough Livi–”

“But, _Mom–!” _

“Look; Mama Tay has come back with Jake. You wanna say ‘hi’, right?”

_That _changed the little girl’s tune.

“_WHAT? _Hurry, Mommy, let’s go! Run! Run!”

Turning clumsily in the water, Liv ploughed forward until she hit the shore, then hurtled herself at Jake’s legs as he tried to off-load his picnic supplies.

“_Hiiiiiiiii, Uncle Jake!” _She ran at her visitor, swerving at the last second before dashing back towards the house.

“Uh, later?” Jake watched after her, bewildered. Of course, slapping Estela and Diego together and making a kid out of it could only have created a slightly odd human being. That Liv was not _more _socially inept was actually surprising. “Aaaand, there she was gone. Slippery l’il brat.”

Taylor snorted with affectionate laughter. “She’ll be back. Just watch she doesn’t run up behind you and whack you in the ass with a big stick. She does that.”

“_Hola, tonto_! You didn’t crash; looks like I owe my wife a dollar.” Estela smirked, and dodged out the way as Taylor made to wrap her up in a hug. “Taylo– you’ll get wet…” It was a hopeless cause, and she was happy to resign to it, bringing Taylor in for a kiss.

“Ha. I knew you couldn’t resist,” Taylor said cheekily, a gleam in her eye. “But, uh… you’re sure you trust me to cook lunch? After _yesterday?” _

Estela chuckled, and brought her lips to Taylor’s once more. “Livi _liked _yesterday’s fire show! And it wasn’t that bad. You’re getting better.”

“Seriously? Are you trying to butter me up or somethi–” At the look she received, Taylor fell silent.

“Taylor. _Mi amor. _I would trust you with anything. Even cooking lunch.”

“Damn, Katniss. I knew you were brave, but…”

When Liv returned to find her mother engaged in a playful tussle with Jake, she was not carrying a big stick, but a big bucket. She emptied it onto the sand, and a great pile of her alphabet magnets tumbled out.

“Okay, Livi,” Taylor said breathlessly, regaining just enough composure to do the responsible adult bit, “but make sure you pick them all up when you’re done. We don’t want to leave bits of plastic on the beach.”

“Duh! I don’t hurt fishies! I _like _the fishies.”

With food to be attended to, and at least _a little _confidence having been placed in her skill set, Taylor retreated to the house to get cooking, leaving Jake and Estela to catch up, and Liv to show off to her guest.

“Look! Jake. Juh- ay- ck.” Liv proudly pointed out the word upon the sand, spelled ‘J-A-Y-K’.

“Huh. Close, but no cigar, Bat-Princess.” Jake adjusted the letters so that his name was spelled out correctly, and looked over to a disapproving scowl so reminiscent of Estela’s ‘what-is-this-fuckery?’ face that he had to fight to keep his own straight.

“Juh- ah- ke… what? That’s the dumb way,” Liv declared, angrily swiping the letters into a jumble and then re-writing his name _her _way. “See, that’s what it sounds like; _juh-aaaaay-ck. _Jake. This is how you spell it _now.”_

“Sure, kid, sure.”

“Livita, you don’t get to decide how someone writes their name.”

“But my way is better!”

“I know, _mija_. Why don’t you show Uncle Jake what other names you know?”

Liv grumbled a little, convinced that she was right, but busied herself rearranging letters until she’d spelled out ‘Mama Stel’, ‘Mama Tay’, and ‘Liv’.

“Do you think you could do your full name if I helped you sound it out?” At an enthusiastic nod, Estela guided her daughter. “Okay, listen carefully; Oh-liv-ia…”

Her brow furrowed, Liv hesitantly placed an ‘O’ in front of ‘Liv’, and receiving a warm smile of encouragement, pondered between an ‘e’ and an ‘i’ before settling on the ‘i’ and finishing with an ‘a’. “Olivia?”

“That’s perfect. It’s gonna get a bit harder now. An-dro-me-da…”

Liv’s eyes grew wide. “But that’s so big! That’s huge! Like a… a… a _whale_!”

Estela laughed gently as she plopped down on the sand beside her daughter. “A whale? It’s not quite that big. I don’t think any word is as long as a whale.” Receiving an unimpressed look of scepticism, she spread the letters out in front of them so they were easy to see. “Livi, you don’t have to, okay? This is just for fun. But if you want… just think of the small parts, not the big word. That’s how you fix a big problem, yes? You make it into smaller pieces.”

“Yuh-huh. I guess…” Liv was not totally convinced, but she had a visitor watching, so she wasn’t about to wimp out. It_ was _just a bunch of letters after all. She turned the word over and over in her head. “Andro… And… Androm… Andromeda…”

“You gotta be kidding me, Katniss. You’ve got her reading before you’ve even trained her up in hand-to-hand combat?”

Giving Jake a side-eye, Estela smirked. “Thought I’d hang onto a physical advantage over her for a few years longer. She’s small, but she’s solid.” She stood up to rejoin Jake as he watched Liv playing around with the letters.

“Wanna grab a beer?”

It had been a while. “Sure.” She nodded. “Livita, we’ll be watching you from up the beach, okay?”

“…Androm…”

“Livi?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Okay, Mom.”

Jake put a cold beer in Estela’s hands as she sat down with him on a sandbank. “Here’s to the winner of San Trobida’s first Spelling Bee!”

Estela laughed, shaking her head. “I think she just wants to get on with growing up,” she said wistfully. “Too fast for me. You can’t get the blissful naivete of childhood back once it’s gone. But she’s happy… that counts for a lot. School soon; then she’ll be on her way whether I’m ready for it or not.”

“A part of me’s surprised you ain’t sending her to school here– I mean, after all the money you’ve put into improving it all. I figured that was part of why it was so important to ya…”

The change in atmosphere was instantaneous.

“I care about more than just my own kid, _cabron,_” Estela retorted, bristling. “This is my home. It matters to me that people have a chance to make a better future. So many kids lost their families in the war… some of those families I had a personal hand in destroying. I have a moral obligation to do everything I can to help this place rebuild now that we’re finally out from under a dictator. And even if I _didn’t_…”

Jake put up his hands, signalling that he meant no harm. “Hey, I know, I know!”

“It’s not just one reason, why we’re gonna raise her in the States. We’ve talked about it, we’ve talked about it _a lot_, and in the end it’s the only thing that makes sense. Here, she has her _tio abuelo_, and that’s important— but she’d be missing out on growing up with Reggie, on being so close to Diego, and so many other people who love her. And the truth is, even with everything we’ve tried to do to make things better… there’s still a long, long way to go. This had been a conservative country for a long time. There’s a lot that’s been brainwashed into people, and even if the laws are better, the mindset of a population doesn’t just change that fast. Livi comes from a family of freedom fighters. She’s being raised by same-sex parents. I know the US can be an absolute shit-hole, but you can’t tell me she won’t be safer there. Have more opportunities.”

“For what it’s worth–”

“Not much, but I’ll hear you out.”

“You’re a great mama. Anyone even try and harm a hair on that kid’s head, you’d punch their ass into the sun. Twice, just in case they survived the first hit.”

Estela rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her smile. “Damn straight,” she muttered under her breath, before looking Jake straight in the face. As quickly as it had come, the smile fell away. The sickness that swooped down on her when she thought back to her early years of schooling… she would not inflict that on Liv for anything. “Listen, I _know_ the schools here are no good for her. I’m not an idiot. I know it’s not like when I was a kid, but… it’s not enough. This will always be home, but I’ll choose her over a place every time.”

A nod told her that Jake got it. Well, as much as he _could _get it. But she wouldn’t be dredging up painful history for the benefit of a discussion that was really _no _discussion. Liv wasn’t going to grow up like she did. _T__hat_, quite simply, was that. She glanced down the beach, and the smile threatened to return as she saw that Liv had forsaken her alphabet in favour of turning cartwheels across the sand. It was the right decision. Somewhere down deep, though, she wondered if there was something more to it… was all the logic she spouted just her way of hiding from the fact that since she’d come back here with Liv, she couldn’t seem to stop running from ghosts?

* * *

_2004_

A sharp surge of pain raced up from Estela’s arm as she rolled over it, instantaneously jolting her back to consciousness. She whimpered. How was she ever going to sleep with _this? _Eight years old, she’d enjoyed countless bumps and bruises, but that fracture, severe enough to require surgery that realigned the bone back beneath the skin where it belonged, had to be the worst pain she’d yet endured in her short life. It wasn’t just a broken arm either, nor the puffy lip, the bruises on her wrists, nor her busted nose. No, what cut deepest was the fact that those other kids had beaten her because of who and what she was. Not just who she was, what she stood for, but her whole _family. ‘_Fucking leftie traitor’ they’d called her, eyes glittering with menace as they parroted words they could barely understand. Comprehension wasn’t important; all the kids knew was that Estela was an enemy, speaking freely in defiance. And for that, she had to pay.

Gingerly, young Estela manoeuvred her body into a more comfortable position. Or, at least, she tried to. Her face was sore against her thin pillow. From outside her door, raised voices filtered through, loud and distinct. Had they been arguing since she’d wished them goodnight? Always, they waited until she’d been tucked into bed before taking out any simmering frustrations on one another.

“…I don’t even know how many times I’ve told you to watch what you say when she’s around– she’s _eight, _she’s not going to know what talk’s gonna get her in trouble!”

“Well, you’ll take her out now,” Nicolas growled. “Finally she’ll be out of that festering cesspool you call a school! Three years you let her go there each day, let them indoctrinate her– and you call yourself a mother–”

There was a ringing slap. Estela shifted nervously, her thumb finding its way into her mouth. Her heart was hammering against her chest, a response to rising danger that she never seemed able to escape. The voices outside had quietened after the strike. The sound had made the hair on the back of Estela’s neck stand on end. Her mother was almost never angry; she was soft, and gentle, and kind, abhorring violence. She must, Estela concluded, be very, very afraid. The dogs that ran loose in the compound and on the beach would snap and bite if they were approached by loud, angry people. People, Estela’s mother had told her, were the same. Fear could make anyone fierce if it was carried deep enough.

Estela tiptoed to her door, listening for the voices. When she heard her mother’s, it was quieter, but thick, as though it was speaking through tears. Estela couldn’t stand the sound of her mother crying.

“She can’t go back,” Olivia was saying, her voice tired, sad, rather than furious as it had been some moments before. “I wanted to give her a chance, a _proper _education_…”_

“And a proper education she’ll have,” Nicolas reassured. “Between you and I, we’ll give her all she needs.”

“And my work? Nic, if I slow down, I’ll never get her free of here.”

There was quiet for a while, until Nicolas broke the silence with his gruff tone. “Not slow down, but much of your lab work can be done out of business hours. Neither can I let up, but so long as I continue business from home, it will work. We’ll arrange a schedule so she’s attended to during the day. I’ll see to her.”

Olivia must have read something between the lines that had been lost on Estela, for she snapped back. “You’ll _not _have her involved! She’s a child, Nicolas– she’s been exposed to enough poison as it is!”

“If I taught her to defend herself already, perhaps she wouldn’t be in plaster! Yes, she’s a child, but she is only as vulnerable as you choose to make her.”

“Is that what you want, Nicolas?” The anger Estela heard in her mother’s voice was palpable, and it was frightening. What was so terrible that it could hurt her so? Was this her, Estela’s, fault? “To raise a new generation, to raise _Estela_, to rebel against Salazar? How _dare _you accuse me of letting her be brainwashed when you’d shape her into a killer given half the chance!”

“It’s better than raising her to be a sitting duck!” came the retort. “You know, when she came to me, bloodied and broken, begging me to get her fixed before you could worry, it cut me to my heart. The last thing I wish for is our Estelita in harm’s way. But harm’s way is where we are. You cannot _look _at that girl and tell me what we’ve been doing so far is keeping her safe.”

Again, a long silence. Estela went back and forth, tempted to open the door and reach for the comfort of her mother. They were both afraid, and the simplest remedy, the one they’d become reliant on, was to be held. Just as she reached for the handle, Estela heard her mother’s voice. Quieter now, and seemingly moving farther away.

“We’ll home-school her. At least… at least until high school. It might take some weeks to make arrangements to change my hours…”

There was the closing of a door, and the voice faded. Estela let go of a breath she’d been holding in unconsciously. Her mind raced. School would never be safe for her; she could trust no one. No one but her mother and her uncle.

Estela sat upon her bed, watching the minutes tick by as she waited for the sound she longed to hear. Then, at last, the creaking of the door in the next room, telling her that her mother was settling down for bed. Again, the young girl crossed the floor of her tiny room, but this time, she did not stop when she reached the door. The hallway was completely dark. Her uncle had retired to his own room at the front of the house– defensively positioned so he’d be the first to come across any danger that breached the threshold. Muffled footsteps and rustling of blankets in the room beside her own drew in Estela like a beacon. With her good hand, she knocked upon the door.

“Mami? I can’t sleep, Mami.”

More footsteps, then the door opened. Olivia’s face was tear streaked, her eyes tired and heavy, but still there was the flicker of a sparkle as she laid eyes on her child. “Estela, I’m sorry. Did we wake you? Tio Nicolas and I let things get out of hand.”

“No, Mom. I was already awake; I rolled on my arm.” Estela winced. It was technically the truth, but it wasn’t the banged-up arm that was troubling her most. She followed her mother onto the bed. There was not a shadow of a doubt that she’d be welcomed there, and, sure enough, as Olivia pulled back the covers, she held an arm out, inviting the child in.

Olivia took a long inhale against her daughter’s head, not noticing her tears falling until they began to drip from her cheeks.

“It’s okay, Mami…” Estela whispered, “I can learn at home. I won’t get it any more fights.”

Her breath quivering, Olivia wiped her face on her sleeve. “Oh, _mija._ It _will _be okay. I’ll teach you everything I know, my star. But first, we’re going to get you healed up and stronger than ever. It’s hard to do schoolwork when you can’t use your writing hand. You need a special holiday.”

“Tio says I can write with my left hand. He says it is important to use both, because if I’m hurt in a fight, I might not be able to choose which one works. If both hands work, I’ll be unstoppable!”

Estela felt her mother cringe, and instinctively nestled in closer. She felt a soft and lingering kiss against her forehead… so wonderfully soothing. Mothers’ kisses, she imagined, must be some sort of magic. Just one of the many, many things she looked forward to learning from her mom. Carefully, she lay herself down so that her head rested upon Olivia’s chest, the steady heartbeat a tender lullaby just for her. Her mother held her, arm wrapped around in a cuddle that offered both love, and the reassurance that the wounded soldier wouldn’t roll and hurt herself again. “_Te amo, _Mami,” she mumbled into the rhythmic heartbeat. Then, she reached up to wiggle her fingers beneath her mother’s chin, seeking the smile she knew she’d bring out. “Tickle, tickle…”

“My darling, _te amo.” _Olivia’s eyes became teary once more, but her lips curved into a loving smile. Gently, she ran her fingers along Estela’s side, and the smile widened into a quiet laugh as she felt the appreciative squirm. “Tickle, tickle!” One more kiss before she laid down her own head. “_Pequeña estrella mía. __Mi _Estelita, _la estrella más brillante en mi cielo_.”

And Estela lay in her mother’s arms, feeling her fall asleep around her, reassured just by the simple fact that they were together in a warm embrace. The soft snores that followed were a price paid for seeking out the maternal bed, but to Estela, the sounds spoke only of contentment, and it calmed her. As did the familiarity of the pattern of moonlight through the window shutters, the way she found herself sliding down from the pillow at her mother’s head height, the pictures formed by cracks in the old ceiling. She held onto Olivia, and fear was gone; all that remained was their heartfelt giving of mutual comfort. To be free of here? Estela couldn’t imagine such a thing, for here, tucked away in their corner of the world, they had everything that mattered. One day, though, she’d make it so her mother didn’t have to be afraid anymore.

She closed her eyes, and let her hand wriggle its way down to her mom’s chest. “…tickle, tickle…”

* * *

The old Montoya house was awakened by the cries of a child in distress. It was a surprise to no one after how flat Liv had been that day, and Estela and Taylor were up in moments, tending to their sick daughter. Even with the flu-like fever having been seen coming, it was heart-rending for the two of them to see Liv in such pain and discomfort. They’d been lucky; she’d always been a healthy kid, but sooner or later, a bad sickness was inevitable. And it had hit with a vengeance.

Having rushed to the twenty-four-hour pharmacy, Estela came home to find her daughter crying in Taylor’s arms.

“… and a headache, and a b-bellyache, and a leg-ache, and…”

Taylor kissed the teary child’s sweat-drenched forehead. “…and a whole-body-ache, sweet pea?”

“Mmhmm. Everywhere… hurting. I-it hurts, Mommy.”

“I know, darling, I know. Mama ‘Stel’s got you some medicine, now. It’s gonna make it hurt a little less, okay? Do you think you can take some for us?”

Liv wearily raised her head to see Estela arrive by her door with children’s Panadol in hand. “Mommy, it hurts.”

The fear and pain in her little girl’s face hit Estela like a kick to the gut. Every instinct told her to put her arms around Liv, to join Taylor in holding her through the worst, but she remained practical. That medicine was the best chance they had of Liv’s pain easing enough to allow for sleep, so that was where her focus had to be.

“I know, _mi alma. _I know.” Estela stepped into the room, and the haze descended swiftly, a thick blanket of grief that saw her emotional vulnerability as an opportunity to get her in its grasp, to choke her. She’d dodged it so long, but now, there was no escape. With glazed eyes and trembling hands, she measured out Liv’s dose. _Focus. Focus! For fuck’s sake, she needs you! _Even as she fought it, Estela could feel her heartbeat quicken, her breath grow ragged and laboured, her palms sweat…

_…”Estelita, it’s going to take the pain away. Just one swallow, _mija”…

A hand reached to steady her own.

“’_I’ve got you…_” came Taylor’s whisper, barely audible, but somehow echoing loud in Estela’s troubled mind. Then, once again, it was lost.

…_”Come here, my little star. I’ll hold you all night. You’re safe.” Even as she trembled, Estela took comfort in her mother’s arms. The medicine might make the pain less, but it was her mother who healed her. Bundled up together in the room that had become their sanctuary away from a cruel world, they’d somehow hold on together._

Estela struggled to draw focus back to the people in front of her. She was holding the medicine. The medicine for Liv… to make her better. How long had she been frozen there? Swallowing hard, she offered the spoonful of medicine to Liv, who took it obediently. That worried little face seemed to swim before Estela’s eyes.

“Yuck!” Liv protested, but took the dose. She scrunched up her face. “That’s baaaad.”

Taylor gave her daughter a squeeze and kissed her forehead. “I know, but it’s good for you. You should start feeling a little better soon. You’re being such a good girl, and very brave.” She looked up at Estela, who was almost as pale and shaky as Liv. It wasn’t something new; being in this room had that effect on her– even moreso when emotions were running high. “I’ll sleep here tonight, make sure this little lady has some company while she’s feeling sad and sore.”

“Thank you, Mommy…” The full intention of the offer was lost on Liv. “Please can you both stay?” she asked weakly, her dark eyes beseeching as she looked up at Estela. “P-please stay…”

Estela’s mouth was dry. Her baby was looking to her, begging for help, and still she couldn’t fucking pull herself together. They could paint the walls all they wanted, but it wouldn’t clear the ghosts that lingered.

_…“Sleep well, little one. _Te amo_, my Estelita.”…_

“…Livi,” Taylor’s voice came through, muffled as if spoken through a solid wall. “I don’t think Mama Estela is feeling very well…”

Desperately, Estela tried to ground herself. She counted the plastic letters that Liv had left strewn on the floor, she ran her fingers over the creases in the bed-covers…

“…tickle, tickle?” Liv’s small fingers wriggled along the inside of Estela’s arm, bringing her back.

“…Livi…” Estela mumbled. Her vision came back into focus, and there was her little girl, offering comfort in the way she’d shown her how. Clarity was short-lived, for tears threatened to blur the vision all over again. She reached out and gently tickled under Liv’s chin, finding the smile she’d so missed and offering one in return. “Tickle, tickle! My good girl.”

“Stay, Mommy?”

For as long as she could hold herself together, there would be no hesitation. “Of course. We’ll bring the mattress in from our room, and sleep beside you all night. I can even hold your hand while you sleep.”

Carefully, Taylor extracted herself from Liv’s embrace and settled the child in bed. She reached for Estela’s hand. “Help me with the mattress?” No help was needed; they both knew it.

When they were out of earshot, Taylor took her partner aside. “Estela, you’re not okay,” Taylor murmured, gently stroking the back of her neck.

Angrily wiping her tears away, Estela met Taylor’s gaze and saw that those brilliant blue eyes were flooded with worry. “I can’t not be with her. I need to do this… but I’m gonna need you to help me through.”

“We could bring her into our bed…”

“There’s not enough room. It’s tiny. And she’s aching all over; she needs space to move around properly, to get comfortable. I’m not gonna take her out of her own bed just because _I _have a problem.”

Taylor frowned thoughtfully and continued her caressing of Estela’s neck, hoping that she was doing anything at all to soothe the anxiety. “Then I’ll hold you all night.”

Estela leaned forward, her eyes closed as she gently nudged her forehead to Taylor’s. “Thank you.”

“Hey…? I know it’s been weighing on you. I know having Liv here has brought back a lot of stuff… and I know a lot of that stuff is painful for you to look back on. I just… I need you to know that I’m here. If you ever need a shoulder to cry on, you’ve got mine any time, day or night.”

Again, tears pricked at Estela’s eyes. She was _tired. _Motherhood had exacerbated both her lofty highs and her crippling lows. Love was both her strength, and her vulnerability. She hugged Taylor tight to her chest, holding her there for several long minutes before meeting her eye, determined. “Let’s get this little lady off to sleep.”

They set up their small mattress beside Livi’s bed, under the half-lidded gaze of their ailing child. Estela’s puffy eyes had not gone unnoticed.

“Mommy, you’re sad?”

Estela sat down on the bed, and began to tenderly tuck Liv in. God, she was just the sweetest kid… constantly groaning in pain and still worrying herself with the woes of her loved ones. She saw so much of herself in Liv. Sometimes too much. She knew how painful that kind of caring could be. Sucking in a breath, Estela gently tucked a sweaty lock of hair behind Liv’s ear.

“Livi, do you remember how this used to by my mom’s room?” A small nod. “Well, sometimes… sometimes when I’m in here I… I miss her. And I feel very sad.”

Liv’s bottom lip trembled. She’d had nightmares of being separated from her mothers; surely, there was nothing scarier. No wonder her Mama ‘Stel was crying. “You want a mommy cuddle to make it better?”

“Yes. Very much.” Again, Estela had to wipe away the tears that came without regard for the fact that she had a job to do. “But I’m lucky. I have you, and Mama Taylor to give me cuddles when my mom can’t. So, I can be brave, and make sure you’re feeling okay too. If it makes you feel better to have me here, then here is where I’ll be.”

There was no way in hell she’d let old grief be a barrier, not when her Livita needed her. She kissed that poor, hot forehead once, twice, three times… a heartfelt gesture, a giving of mutual comfort. It was hard to leave Liv, harder still when Estela looked around from switching off the light, seeing the same pattern of moonlight that had fallen across her as she’d taken shelter in her own mother’s arms. _Deep breath._

Her limbs like jelly, Estela crawled beneath the covers, and felt blessed relief as Taylor put her arms around her, spooning from behind. _Focus. Focus on Taylor. The feel of her, the smell of her. She’s got you… she’s got you. _Her elbow resting on the pillow, she offered a hand to the bed above, to her beloved child.

“…Mommy…” The whimper was weak, pained. A horrible contrast to the effervescence that usually shone through in the little girl’s voice.

“I’m here, _mija. _All night. Squeeze my hand when it hurts.”

“Uh-huh.” Liv took Estela’s hand and grasped it tight. “And you squeeze my hand when you’re sad?”

Estela had to bite her lip. “Livita, I would like that very much. Thank you. Sweet dreams, _mi bebita. Te amo.”_

“Night-night Mama ‘Stel, night-night Mama Tay.”

“Sleep well, Livi. Feel better, my angel. I love you.” Taylor nuzzled into Estela’s shoulder. “And I love you, too,” she whispered. “Just hang in there… I’ve got you.”

Estela closed her eyes against her surroundings, focusing on the people holding her dear; Taylor at her back, Liv squeezing her hand. And when the old voice of distant memories reached for her, it brought not anxiety, but another embrace, covering her like a blanket. She exhaled deeply.

…“Te amo, mi _Estelita. I’__m here, my little star…. You’re safe__.”…_


End file.
